Dead men tell no tales
by v4lhalla
Summary: His mind palace was in ruins. All the information was fading away. He couldn't feel his body anymore, he couldn't feel his mind, he couldn't see, he couldn't feel anything. There was only the darkness and the bliss of not feeling bored.


Many years had passed since they went there for the first time. They were different men back then but they still didn't forget about that blue light. They couldn't forget. They were at the pool where they met James Moriarty for the first time. Not Jim from IT, but James Moriarty, the Consulting Criminal and the most dangerous brain that Sherlock had the bad fortune of meeting. _"I'll __burn __you..."_, the words still echoed in Sherlock's mind from time to time. Moriarty was dead. Shot in the mouth by his own hands. Suicide. Sherlock still couldn't believe how far Moriarty would go to stop being bored. Sherlock himself did, quite frankly, many fucked up things but Moriarty... Moriarty was insane. Brilliant, yes... but insane.  
"Sherlock... why did we came here? There's no one here!", John whispered with a broken voice. His whispers sounding extremely loud in the heavy air.  
The image of the text still burned in Sherlock's eyes. "_The pool. Midnight. -SM"_. He couldn't solve what that was supposed to mean. He didn't know who SM was and he doesn't like not knowing, he _had_ to come. He was so _curious._  
Besides from John's breathing they were at complete silence. The blue light of the pool made their shadows as big as giant's. It took them some time to notice the third shadow.  
"Sherlock Holmes!", said the voice. John quickly turned around, his gun held high and pointing at the intruder's head. Sherlock turned slowly and faced the unknown man. The intruder was tall, blond, with piercing blue eyes that held such an anger that Sherlock almost didn't notice the huge scar that marked the man's face from the eyebrow to the end of the bottom lip.  
"You have no idea of how long I waited for this", he murmured so low that John's heavy breathing almost covered his voice.  
"Sherlock…?"  
"Who are you?", Sherlock interrupted John, suddenly feeling like the dumb boy Mycroft always told he was. But he couldn't help himself. He had never seen this man before, even though he seemed familiar.  
"Oh... you don't remember me, then? I have to say that I am a little... disappointed, Mr. Sherlock Holmes", the way the man formed his words reminded him of Moriarty.  
"Oh, dumb. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course...", Sherlock closed his eyes and suddenly there he was. At the same pool, years ago. He saw the red spots on John's shirt and turned around, looking for the gun's man. The only thing he saw was a slight grin, blue eyes and a red scar. He opened his eyes to the same man, looking so much older, staring back at him and expecting an answer.  
"You are the gun's man… the sniper."  
The smile that creeped the man's face burned, if possible, even more than the furious look on his eyes. "The name's Sebastian Moran."  
"Moran…", John whispered, closing his eyes.  
"Do you know him?", Sherlock asked, surprised.  
"Oh yes… of course I know him. Sebastian Moran, First Bangalore Pioneers."  
Sebastian's grin grew even bigger and for a moment there, he looked just as insane as Moriarty.  
"What do you want?", Sherlock asked, impatient.  
"Mr. Holmes… you are my ruin", he said, his voice trembling with anger "He killed himself in front of you… my boss… Jim... dead. I didn't know what to do. Oh, I wanted to kill you for so long, Mr. Holmes. I waited for this moment for so, so long…"  
Sebastian looked down, closing his eyes tightly. John's breathing sounded loud as a thunder in the silence of the night. The light made the man's almost white hair look blue. He held his head up, eyes burning so much that tinted everything red and suddenly... darkness. A gun shot. Two. Three. The sound of bodies falling on the ground.  
"Sherlock! Sherlock!", John screamed with his heart on his mouth, his sobs swallowing his words.  
The pool's water was red. Everything was red. Sebastian Moran's body fell on the water and was floating belly down.  
Sherlock's mind palace was in ruins. He seeked for help but he didn't find anything. All the information he collected for years was fading away. He couldn't feel his body anymore, he couldn't feel his mind, he couldn't feel anything. The bullet had passed through his entire head and left his body in the same way that it got in and John was still screaming. John felt the pain on his own body, like he was the one who got shot. His eyes, his lungs, his heart, his entire body was burning. Sherlock... his Sherlock... his best friend... his love...  
Sherlock's eyes were still open when he died. John could almost hear his mind shutting down like a computer being abruptly disconnected off the plug. The last thing he heard was his own name coming from his friend's lips and suddenly the darkness swallowed his existence and there was only the bliss... the beautiful bliss of not feeling bored.


End file.
